


fistfight

by BananasofThorns



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arson, Dancing, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Evil Wilbur Soot, Gen, Implied Dissociation, Mental Instability, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, feel free to interpret how you like, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: “Dream,” Wilbur says, staring emptily at the spreading flames, “dance with me.”Dream glances over. The fire paints his mask in flickering gold, his netherite gear in burning red. He’s quiet for a moment, then—“What?”Wilbur sighs. “Just do it.” He holds up his hands. “Please?”Two men, a war, and the consequences of their actions.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 245





	1. curses

**Author's Note:**

> [fic title from Fistfight - The Ballroom Thieves]
> 
> I am back on my bullshit, writing things with Dream and Vilbur. it's such a good concept okay
> 
> also fair warning, this fic has slightly more homoerotic undertones than my other Dream & Wilbur fics. It's nothing big and could definitely be interpreted as friendship or a queer-platonic relationship, but keep it in mind if you're uncomfortable with that kind of stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from Curses - The Crane Wives]
> 
> so I wasn't going to write any more Dream and Wilbur stuff. and then I had a new idea. so here we are

“Tommy, don’t you _get it?_ ” Wilbur cries, gesturing at angrily nothing. “Our nation’s gone, our nation’s far behind us. So why don’t we just—”

Tommy crosses his arms, glaring.

“You’re being reckless. It’s not too far gone. If you’d just _listen_ to me— it’s not a lost cause! We have people who—”

Wilbur scoffs. He can feel Tubbo and Techno watching him; their eyes are heavy on his back. His bones itch.

“Everyone who’s claiming to be on our side? They’re lying to us! Tubbo?” He slices a hand through the air, gesturing up; Tubbo flinches away. His green tie is loose and bright beneath the abyssal black of his suit. “He’s lying to you, man!”

Tommy snarls. He strides forward, slamming his palms into Wilbur’s chest with enough force to send him stumbling back into the wall. The rough stone digs uncomfortably into his back.

“Stop it!” Tommy glances up at Tubbo, eyes softening briefly before he meets Wilbur’s gaze. “Alright?”

Wilbur chuckles and stands in one fluid motion. Tommy flinches back slightly. 

Wilbur smiles sympathetically. “I know, I can see it in your eyes. I see it, I can hear it in your voice; Tommy Innit—” he leans down, digging his fingers into the threadbare fabric over Tommy’s shoulders. “— you’re _scared_.”

Tommy tries to pull away, grimacing. “Wilbur—”

“You’re trying to sound like you know what you’re doing so that you can prove me wrong,” Wilbur says lowly; the words taste like embers and ash on his tongue. He laughs. “Tommy, none of us know what we’re doing. We’re fucked, we were fucked the minute we were thrown out.”

His grip tightens. Tommy’s eyes flash, flicking up to where Techno and Tubbo are standing. His fingers wrap around Wilbur’s wrists. They’re shaking, slightly.

“I know you’re scared, Tommy. I understand you’re scared, and—”

A hand grabs Wilbur’s shoulder, tugging him back. He stumbles, slamming into the ravine wall. Techno frowns down at him; behind him, Tommy glares.

“That’s enough,” Techno warns, in that same low monotone as always. He stalks forward, grabbing Wilbur’s arm to pull him up.

Wilbur jerks, though he knows there’s no way he’s breaking free if Techno doesn’t want him to. He tries to catch someone’s, _anyone’s_ , eye. Techno meets his gaze head-on; his face is as blank as ever, but there’s something like disappointment lurking in his crimson eyes. When Wilbur looks up, Tubbo’s hand is curled nervously around his silky green tie. He’s staring at Tommy; he won’t even _look_ at Wilbur, which—

Yeah, that’s fair.

Tommy glares, looking far older than he is.

“I don’t want to see him right now,” he says. He sounds tired and furious and afraid.

“Woah, wait, what—”

Tommy frowns. “Technoblade.”

Techno starts walking and Wilbur stumbles after him, tripping up the stairs. Tubbo presses against the wall when they pass, his eyes wide. Wilbur smiles at him, aims for reassuring—

“It’s nothing against you, really,” he promises, because he still loves Tubbo, he _does_ , it’s just— “It’s a power struggle, is all. People follow who they think is the strongest; it’s quite smart, actually—”

Techno tugs his arm. “Wilbur. Let’s go.”

The walk up the steep, winding stairs is long and silent. Wilbur lets himself be led, watching the flickering torches with distant fascination. Techno’s grip is tight enough that it’s definitely going to bruise; _just another one for the collection,_ Wilbur thinks bitterly.

Techno shoves the Pogtopia entrance open with his shoulder and pulls Wilbur out; dirt showers around them and Wilbur shakes it out of his hair, brushes it harshly off his shoulders. The sudden sunlight is bright, near blinding, and he blinks spots out of his eyes. Techno lets him go, arms crossed in front of Pogtopia like a sentinel.

“You need to be more careful,” he warns. “They’re just kids. They were thrown into this too young.”

Wilbur scoffs. “Why do _you_ care?”

“I don’t. You’re their idol, Wilbur; don’t ruin that for them, too.”

Techno’s cloak flares in a swath of bloody red fabric when he turns, disappearing back into Pogtopia. Wilbur steps forward, reaching out a hand uselessly.

“Hey, Techno, wait—”

The entrance seals shut. He’s left staring at the dirt wall, suddenly alone.

A knife-slash smile spreads over his face; he buries it beneath his hands, fighting back sudden, burning tears. Fuck.

+++

Dream appears like a shadow at Wilbur’s side. The loose poncho he’s wearing makes him look softer than usual, but Wilbur isn’t fooled; he can see the dark shimmer of netherite beneath the bright cloth. 

“Dream—” he starts, wincing when his voice comes out as no more than a gravelly whisper.

Dream tilts his head; sun flashes off the edge of the mask and Wilbur winces, turning away and blinking the spots out of his eyes.

He frowns. The sun is lower in the sky than he remembers it being.

When had—

How long has Dream been—?

He clears his throat. “What are you doing here?”

Dream hums and doesn’t answer the question, because of course he doesn’t. 

“What are you doing out here? I thought you’d be inside,” he nods to the hill and its carefully undisturbed dirt, “planning, or something. Don’t you have a country to win back?”

Wilbur laughs bitterly, rubbing a hand down his face. He blinks when it comes away wet. Was he crying?

“I think I fucked up, Dream,” he admits. It hurts his throat to talk, but he continues anyway. “Tubbo is terrified of me, Tommy probably hates me now, and Techno kicked me out. I— that one’s...fine, though. I can’t fuck it up any more than I already have.” Probably.

“So Techno’s the leader of Pogtopia now?”

Wilbur coughs. “What? Have you met the man? No, no, he just threw me out on Tommy’s orders. I guess that means Tommy’s the leader now.”

“I see.”

Dream brushes a hand over the overgrown grass. Wilbur watches, waiting for— he’s not sure what. But he waits, carefully focused on reading the almost-comfortable silence. It’s better than confronting the raging cacophony going on in his head.

Finally, Dream says, “So you’re nationless?”

Wilbur scoffs. “No need to rub it in.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” Wilbur rolls his eyes. Dream raises his hands placatingly. “I wasn’t being a dick on purpose, I swear. I was just going to say— if you’re alone now, why not join me?”

Wilbur stares. 

“What?”

“Think about it! We could take it all back. We could— we could blow Manberg to hell and take Schlatt down with it. We could restore your leadership. Isn’t that what you want?”

Wilbur twirls a stem of grass between his fingers. “You just want us all back under your control, don’t you?” Dream laughs.

“Maybe. But I’d take you with me to the top.”

He stands, holding out a hand. Wilbur stares at it, still twirling the grass, before sighing. He allows Dream to pull him to his feet, swaying slightly as blood rushes to his head. Once his vision clears, he smiles.

“What the fuck. Sure, Dream. I’ll join you.”

 _Everyone already hates me,_ he doesn’t add. _What’s one more thing to the top of the pile?_

They walk away from Pogtopia together. Wilbur has no idea where they’re going, but he allows Dream to lead him through the forest, winding between trees. Neither of them notice Pogtopia opening until it’s too late.

“Wilbur!”

Wilbur tenses, stumbling over a root in his haste to turn. He can just barely see Pogtopia through the leaves and branches, but it would be hard to miss Techno, Tubbo, and Tommy staring at him. Dream slows, backtracking to stand at Wilbur’s side. Tommy’s frown deepens.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, stalking through the forest. Tubbo hurries after him, but Techno stays, arms crossed.

“You kicked me out, Tommy!” Wilbur says with far more cheer than he feels. “I’m leaving!”

“I— _no_ , what—”

“Technoblade?” Tubbo asks quietly.

“Come on, Dream,” Wilbur mutters, turning away. “Let’s go.”


	2. sing to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from Sing to Me - MISSIO]

Wilbur has been with Dream for a few weeks, probably, when Schlatt announces the festival. They’ve snuck into Manberg to hear the announcement live and, a few buildings away, Wilbur can see that Tommy has done the same. He looks away before they can make eye contact and slumps further down on the roof.

“Tommy’s here,” he mutters. “That means Techno probably is, too.”

Dream glances over. “It looks like he’s gonna shoot the President,” he says mildly.

“ _What?_ ” Wilbur sits up, barely remembering to keep low enough that Schlatt and the others won’t see him.

Sure enough, when he looks over, Tommy’s bow is out and he has an arrow nocked at Schlatt’s head. Wilbur runs a hand over his face, biting back a growl.

“Wh— that’s such a bad idea,” he hisses. “Doesn’t he know that killing Schlatt won’t solve anything? He’s going to get himself fucking killed.”

Dream is silent for a moment. “What? Oh.” He shakes his head slightly. “He’ll be fine, as long as Schlatt and Quackity don’t look up.”

Wilbur returns his attention to the stage. Schlatt is still talking, prattling on about democracy something-or-other. Quackity and Tubbo flank him on either side; the former looks as smug as always, but Tubbo’s back is straight and his eyes distant, face so carefully pleasant that it could be a mask. George is behind Quackity and slightly to the right, equally blank. Wilbur tilts his head to study Dream and bites back his sudden questions. There are more important things to worry about right now.

“He’s going to shoot Schlatt!”

“No, he’s not.”

“How can you—” Wilbur frowns, cutting himself off when Dream points.

Techno has appeared behind Tommy, not even bothering to hide his presence. His hand is on Tommy’s shoulder and his cloak whips around them both, half-obscuring Tommy behind a curtain of crimson red. He looks over to their roof and doesn’t even seem surprised to see them; Wilbur flinches back when they make eye contact.

“Good,” he mutters. “That’s...good.”

He stands, carefully, and curls his fingers around Dream’s wrist before walking away.

“Let’s go. I’ve got everything I needed.”

+++

When he’s not doing anything, which is annoyingly often, Wilbur finds himself lying on one of the suspended platforms that make up Dream’s base, watching the golden-edged leaves sway in the sunlight. If he sits for long enough, he can almost catch the lyrics that hum on the edge of his consciousness. His fingers itch for a guitar, but he knows he can never get that part of his life back.

Dream joins him, sometimes, always with something in his hands. That’s another thing Wilbur has noticed over the past few weeks; Dream hardly ever stops moving. Today he’s sharpening his axe, and the smooth sound of the whetstone over the blade is a repetitive beat beneath the rustling leaves and the half-snippets of song.

“Dream,” Wilbur says, breaking the silence.

The whetstone doesn’t pause. “Yes?”

“Do you ever—” Wilbur watches the leaves sway, an ocean of green. “Do you ever miss them?”

He doesn’t say who, but he doesn’t have to. Dream’s movements stutter very slightly before he continues on like he’d never faltered. Wilbur snorts.

“Do you?” Dream shoots back. There’s an edge in his voice, barely noticeable.

Wilbur opens his mouth to say yes, but— “I don’t know.”

Dream sighs. “Yeah.” 

He sets the whetstone aside and holds his axe up; the netherite blade glints golden in the sun. Wilbur watches as he spins it in his hand, light flashing off the sharpened edges. Dream sets it down and lies beside it, hands tucked beneath his head.

“I miss how it used to be, you know?” He says.

Wilbur turns to look at him, squinting at the mask like it’ll somehow reveal what Dream’s feeling.

“It was a lot simpler back then,” he agrees, and Dream laughs.

“We were trying to kill each other, Wilbur.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, but— okay, so the war sucked, but everything in between? Before the war and before Schlatt? That was good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dream says. He sounds wistful, maybe, but Wilbur has no idea what he’s actually thinking. “It was.”

+++

“Dream,” Wilbur starts, staring emptily at the spreading flames. His ears are ringing and the rubble is still warm beneath his feet - _no more Manberg,_ he thinks, and laughs. The death logs are only now starting to fade from his vision.

Dream turns, nudging at a destroyed brick with his axe. The fire paints his mask in gold, his netherite gear in burning red.

“Yeah?”

“Dance with me.”

Wilbur’s not sure where the request comes from, but he doesn’t take it back. He thinks he should maybe feel bad about all this, all the destruction and death he’s caused, but—

“ _What?_ ” Even through the mask, Wilbur can feel Dream’s incredulous stare.

“It’ll be fun,” he insists, holding up his hands. Redstone dust clings to his finger and he absently tries to brush it off on his coat.

Dream sighs and slings his axe back over his shoulder. “Fine.” He awkwardly settles his hands in Wilbur’s. “I have no idea how to do this.” Wilbur laughs.

“Oh, me neither. That’s part of the fun, though, isn’t it?”

He leads them in a slow circle; they trip over each other at first, but eventually they settle into a rhythm that winds them around the flames and the piles of rubble. Wilbur squeezes his eyes shut. He can almost hear a melody, beneath the ringing in his ears and the echoing screams. If he can just— 

“I think this time I’m dying,” he sings, slightly off-key.

He drops one of Dream’s hands and raises his arm. Dream stares at him blankly and Wilbur rolls his eyes, spinning his finger. Dream sighs but obliges and Wilbur laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth when Dream nearly trips over part of what might’ve been the stage.

“Shut up,” Dream mutters, holding up his own arm. 

Wilbur twirls, delighting in the way his coat spins around his legs, barely missing the fire. Clumsily, he rejoins Dream and grabs his hand, grinning. The lyrics come easier, now.

“I’m not melodramatic—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Wilbur sings is his song Saline solution
> 
> check out [this playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7CRWylCJUQ6diD4EfQ0E63?si=npJp2TBsTqueBtkPznIqIw) I made inspired by the Vibes of Dream and Wilbur dancing in the rubble. also, if I made a playlist specifically _for_ them, would anyone be interested?


	3. a sadness runs through him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers]
> 
> aaaaa the war starts in an hour and I'm very scared so have this chapter (also I may or may not be planning something else for the _look the devil in the eye_ series 👀

There is a very large crater where Manberg used to be. Techno’s kind of impressed, to be honest; he hadn’t realized Dream and Wilbur had enough TNT to completely decimate a nation, but now that he thinks about it, it isn’t surprising.

The screams slowly fade away as people start respawning. Techno settles above the crater to watch Dream and Wilbur pick their way through the rubble. Bad is the first person to join him; they watch each other warily for a moment before Bad smiles - weaker than usual, but who can blame him? - and Techno shrugs and then they sit together, watching the debris burn. Techno can’t remember if he ever saw Bad’s name appear in the death logs. He doesn’t ask.

Slowly, everyone else limps their way up: Tommy and Tubbo, leaning on each other with burn scars all across their arms. Fundy and Niki, eyes hard and faces tear-streaked. Eret comes up over at some point, eyes glowing so bright that his glasses are basically useless, and he claps a hand over his mouth when he sees what remains. George and Sapnap appear side-by-side, and they take one look at Dream before quietly leaning against each other, some unreadable look passing between them.

Techno turns away.

He tunes out the crying and muttering until Schlatt appears and everyone goes silent. One of his horns has broken at the tip and burns trace his cheekbones like morbidly elegant facepaint, but his suit is as pristine as ever. 

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” he admits, laughing bitterly.

Tommy scoffs, muttering curses under his breath. Niki sighs.

“None of us did.”

And that’s that. Schlatt sits on the edge of the crater a few feet away from everyone else, chin on his palm like he’s at one of his business meetings, not the burning remains of his country. Techno returns to watching Wilbur and Dream, and—

“Are they  _ dancing?” _ Fundy asks, with an impressive amount of incredulity.

Techno tilts his head. “Looks like it.” He snorts when Dream twirls and almost trips over a rock.

“What an idiot,” George murmurs to Sapnap, who laughs the laugh of a man who has nothing left to lose.

“Yeah, I hate him.”

“Will’s singing,” Niki says; she might be talking to herself, but she says it loud enough that they all hear. “He hasn’t done that—”

“In ages, I know.” Tommy’s hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around Tubbo’s shoulders like he’s afraid to let go, curls and uncurls at his side. He’d lost all his gear in the explosions; everyone had.

Snatches of the song - songs? Probably more than one, unless Wilbur’s singing a really long piece - drift up, nearly smothered by the still-crackling flame. Eventually, the dancing slows to swaying before Wilbur crumples, kneeling in the destruction he’d caused.

Tommy shoots to his feet, fingertips still hovering by Tubbo, torn between his mentor and his best friend. Techno stands, pulling him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Everyone’s watching them; he can feel their eyes on his back and he wants to turn and glare, get them to look away, but he doesn’t.

Tommy jerks himself free. “Wh— Techno, what the hell?”

“Leave it, Tommy,” Techno mutters. “You’re not the person he needs to see right now.”

Tommy glares. “And Dream is?”

“Eh.” Techno watches over Tommy’s head as Dream kneels down, resting his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Niki steps forward, long-learned resignation in her eyes. “You’ll see him again,” she promises, taking Tommy’s hand. “He just needs some time.”

“But—”

The message appears in Techno’s mind, a familiar whisper of power.

_ Dream: Take care of them for me. _

Techno sighs and turns to face the group. Bad is already gathering his people and leaving; he catches Techno’s eye and nods, something like understanding passing between them.  _ Survivors, _ Techno thinks. He claps his hands and forces a smile onto his face.

“Show’s over. C’mon, I’m sure you all have better places to be than the ruins of a doomed country.”

Schlatt snorts. Tommy mutters curses under his breath but allows Niki and Tubbo to lead him away; he only glances back once. Sapnap and George walk leave together. Techno waits, a hand on his trident until he’s the only one left.

_ Technoblade: You owe me so much. _

Down in the crater, Dream laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes :)
> 
> 1) Bad didn't die, but he was at the festival.  
> 2) This is not the first time Dream and Techno have messaged in the fic.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated
> 
> check out my evil Wilbur playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ZhbEPYaMDP8d5pMKvs7RD?si=HNHJQPr7TcW1edms7mq6Cw)
> 
> follow me on twitter and tumblr @/bananasofthorns


End file.
